The archive.

Even a fully developed economic theory, Morgenstern contends, would leave many policy problems unsolvable — because policy adds demands theory never faces: aims stated quantitatively, timing, tolerated side-effects, feasible computation, and, decisively, a list of admissible means. A problem impossible under one set of permitted operations may become trivial under another, as squaring the circle, Columbus's egg, and the Gordian knot each illustrate. Unemployment could be 'solved' by conscription, work camps, or forced relocation; ruling those out changes the problem itself. Invoking Gödel as a reminder that decidability runs deep, he separates the theoretical solution from the policy solution and warns that civilization, by narrowing the morally acceptable instruments of action, tends to make its economic problems harder even as economic knowledge advances.

The statement that a problem has no solution for a given set of means is exactly equivalent to stating that a contradiction prevails.

The mid-century quarrel over whether social science must borrow the methods of physics or invent its own is, for Schütz, badly posed. Empirical inquiry everywhere shares standards of controlled inference, verification, and generality; what differs is the object. Against Ernest Nagel's positivist attack on Weberian Verstehen, and against the equation of experience with sense-observation, he insists that naturalism silently takes for granted the very thing it should explain, the intersubjective, already-interpreted social world. Understanding is first an everyday mode of experience, not a scholar's private intuition. The methodological consequence is exacting: social-scientific concepts must be second-order constructs raised upon the first-order typifications of ordinary actors, and the theorist populates models with "homunculi" endowed only with the motives a problem requires, disciplined by logical consistency and adequacy to lived understanding.

Das Hauptziel der Sozialwissenschaften ist es, geordnetes Wissen von sozialer Wirklichkeit zu gewinnen.

English translation: “The chief aim of the social sciences is to obtain organized knowledge of social reality.”

No purely factual history is possible in any politically relevant sense, Hayek maintains, because citizens judge their institutions through inherited stories about what those institutions have done. Introducing a wider inquiry into capitalism and industrialization, he takes aim at one such story: the legend that the Industrial Revolution impoverished and degraded the working classes. Drawing on Clapham and on concessions later made by the Hammonds, he argues that real wages and living standards generally rose, and that capital accumulation let a vastly larger proletarian population survive at all. Visible urban misery, Corn Law-era Tory propaganda against manufacturers, and socialist historicism from Marx to Sombart and the Webbs together fixed the darker picture as common sense. Hardship, he counters, more often flowed from monopoly, state action, and precapitalist restrictions than from the competitive order itself.

Political opinion and views about historical events ever have been and always must be closely connected.

A functioning market, this revised Cologne lecture insists, demands not an absent state but a deliberately maintained legal framework — general, predictable rules applied equally to all, sharply distinguished from the discretionary administrative commands that corrode economic coordination. Speaking into the German debate over the soziale Marktwirtschaft and alongside Walter Eucken's ordoliberalism, Hayek presses the case in strict rule-of-law terms and dismantles the textbook ideal of 'perfect competition,' which mistakes an imagined final state for the discovery process by which markets actually work. He defends even the distressed, overinvested industry's right to fail against demands for cartels and protection, holding that competition's painful verdicts perform an accounting no administrative body can replace. The decisive task, he concludes, is educating opinion to accept competition consistently rather than licensing exceptions whenever it turns temporarily harmful.

Was wir wollen, ist nicht universelle Konkurrenz, sondern universelle Möglichkeit der Konkurrenz.

English translation: “What we want is not universal competition, but the universal possibility of competition.”

A move in chess reshapes the whole board; so, Shackle insists, does a genuinely crucial economic decision, one that cannot be repeated because it alters the very conditions under which any later choice would occur. Replying here to critics of Expectation in Economics, he defends the distinction between unique, isolated, and crucial trials against those who would treat rival imagined futures as additive terms in a single statistical expectation. Mutually exclusive outcomes, he argues, cannot be summed like fractions drawn from an urn; the chooser confronts an act, a moment, and a set of hypotheses. Against Baumol and Graaff he deploys his focus-value method, the φ-function, and potential surprise, rejecting 'degree of belief' as any general rescue of probabilistic ordering.

Now when an experiment, a question about the future, is unique, isolated, or crucial, it does not make sense to add together its rival hypothetical outcomes or answers.

Twentieth-century economics did not merely add topics to an old canon; it replaced the image of a system tending toward stable equilibrium with one shaped by uncertainty, hesitation, and breakdown. Out of that upheaval Shackle draws a map, sorting inherited doctrine by the kind of time and knowledge each theory assumes: perfect adjustment, calculable dynamics, aggregative comparative statics, and the economics of uncertain expectation. The organizing question is temporal—whether a model treats time as timeless adjustment, a dated sequence, or agents' conjectures about futures that cannot be known. Keynes straddles the categories, formally comparative statics yet substantively a theory of imagined futures. The chart doubles as a proposed curriculum and as a warning against teaching incompatible assumptions as though they belonged to one unified doctrine.

Imagined future events still form an entirely distinct category, since they do not constitute a unique series.

Numerical probability divides a fixed unit of belief among rival hypotheses; that additive structure, Shackle contends, is exactly what makes it useless for describing genuine uncertainty, where several incompatible outcomes may each be perfectly possible with nothing known against them. The remedy proposed is potential surprise, a non-additive measure of disbelief that lets rival hypotheses coexist without competing for a common total. Dividing experiments into 'divisible' series, where frequency ratios can render an aggregate outcome knowable in advance, and unique 'non-divisible' acts, where such ratios are meaningless, he weighs an integrative decision rule, drawn via Ralph Turvey from Ingvar Svennilson, against his own focus-values solution and rejects the former as psychologically artificial. Expectation, he concludes, is an act of creative imagination, not rational calculation on incomplete data.

For a non-divisible, unique experiment it is plain that no frequency-ratio can have any meaning or relevance.

May an economist honorably use a theory he does not fully believe? Shackle answers that the alternative would abolish the discipline, since every usable theory remains partial, contestable, and interesting precisely because it is not final knowledge. Sincerity thus becomes disciplined awareness of a theory's limits rather than abstention from theory. The essay runs a sequence of tests—on the arbitrary boundaries that wall economics off from psychology and politics, on the incompatible pictures rival abstractions paint, on equilibrium as a mechanical borrowing, on econometrics and its dangerous phrase 'incomplete information.' Because its subject matter learns, imagines, and invents, economics can never treat fitted equations as eternal truths, and its practitioners, Shackle urges, should form an open craft rather than a guarded mystery.

Economics is not physics, it is psychics, the study of men with all their capacity for learning and experimenting and inventing and imagining.

Government planning and the disintegration of the world economy, Sennholz argues, are two faces of one process: the tariffs, exchange controls, and nationalizations that wreck the international division of labor also spawn the unification schemes meant to repair it. Writing from Mises's orbit with Earhart Foundation support, he marches through the postwar projects, Streit's federal union of democracies, Coudenhove-Kalergi's Pan-Europe, the socialist United States of Europe, the Council of Europe, the International Monetary Fund, the European Payments Union, and the Coal and Steel Community, and finds each fatally wedded to the interventionism it cannot survive. Capitalism and socialism, he insists, cannot coexist in one customs-free federation; the ECSC is a supranational monopoly over coal and steel. His alternative is unilateral free trade, sound gold-backed money, and a state confined to protecting life and property.

There is only one reason for an unsatisfactory operation of the market economy: it is government intervention.

Orthodox theory said a fall in interest-rates should quicken investment by raising the present value of future returns; businessmen questioned by the Oxford Economists' Research Group flatly denied noticing any such effect. Rather than discard the doctrine, Shackle narrows it. A future receipt must be discounted twice, once for deferment through the pure interest rate and once for doubt, and the two work very differently: interest bites hardest on distant, secure returns, which is why housing and other long-lived, dependable assets remain rate-sensitive. But where invention, fashion, and obsolescence truncate an asset's useful life, a swelling 'marginal rate of risk' absorbs the far future before the pure rate can act, leaving valuations almost unmoved by a one-point change. Entrepreneurs, attending to shifting orders and markets, simply never register interest as the cause of their decisions.

It was until recent years an accepted doctrine that changes of interest-rates powerfully influence the pace at which enterprisers, all taken together, extend or improve their equipment.

Gunnar Myrdal's 1933 essay on monetary equilibrium deserves, Shackle argues, a recognition equal to anything in interwar economics, and he reconstructs it to show why. Myrdal's achievement was to reset Wicksell's problem in time: the natural rate cannot be the observable yield on existing capital, since that yield, once the stream of expected net receipts is discounted at the current interest rate, is tautologically tied to it. The live variable is instead the gap between a projected plant's capital value and its construction cost, a valuation formed before building and therefore a matter of expectations. Equilibrium is recast as compatibility among plans, read alongside Hayek: not balanced aggregates but a state in which realized events force no one to remake their anticipations. Even aggregate equality of investment and 'waiting', Shackle shows, can conceal offsetting individual errors.

Monetary equilibrium in this meaning is a means of classifying the set, considered as a whole, of systems of expectations which are entertained, one system by each individual, at some one point of time.

Value theory, Shackle charges, quietly presumes perfect knowledge — that the buyer can see every satisfaction in advance — a fiction exposed by the very existence of information, a good worth having only because its contents are not yet known. The essay accordingly shifts the object of economic choice from satisfactions to actions whose consequences remain hypothetical. Each rival hypothesis carries a face-value, the gain or loss if it proves true, and a second variable measuring its claim on the imagination; numerical probability, he demonstrates through five separate objections, cannot serve as that second variable for unique, non-seriable decisions. His replacement is potential surprise: not a lesser degree of certainty but a positive recognition of some disabling incongruity, a scale on which any number of mutually exclusive hypotheses may all sit at zero.

But the theory of consumer’s behaviour assumes that we always know what we are going to get.